


Morning Star

by stuckinastory



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, LJ to AO3, Oldfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinastory/pseuds/stuckinastory
Summary: Miranda's past comes back in one incident, how does Andy help her cope?
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Morning Star

The night is darkest just before the dawn.

–Harvey Dent, Gotham City District Attorney

_There are certain memories which latch themselves tightly onto our minds, that neither time nor force can remove them. There are faces and events that flash on our mind’s eye, movements that once repeated, bring forth intense reactions, and words that we carry with us long after their speaker has gone. Such is the power of the human mind, and such is the power of man, that even with all of this, only man’s will can make the mind bend to its whims._

Miranda Priestly did not have a happy childhood. She wasn’t exactly begging for spare change on street corners, but even in her white picket fence world, there were days when all her mother could put out was a loaf of bread and a few ears of corn. As a child, Miriam would ask, “Is there anything else?” But her mother’s eyes would shine and say ‘No’ before her lips did. Her two brothers had their heads bowed, and her father would be resigned, waiting for the next day. By high school she was babysitting a few children and running errands for Mrs. Emily Hodge, a rich old lady who live three streets away and who sent her and her younger brother Aaron to school. Two years before she graduated, her older brother Jacob left for the military. Twenty years into service, he was killed in a skirmish, and Miranda took to visiting his grave once a year, on his birthday, without anyone else in sight. Six years after Jacob left for the military, John and Helen Princhek lost a daughter, and Jacob and Aaron Princhek lost a sister.

It could very well be said that Miranda Priestly did not have a childhood.

Tonight, that unwanted part of her past manifested itself. Asleep and in a dream, Miranda Priestly saw her younger self running to the backyard after arriving from school. Her auburn hair was flying because of the breeze, thin little legs propelling her to her mother’s favorite spot, where she would most probably be seen with the water can and her plants. As Miriam ran, Miranda felt her feet walking hurriedly, as an image came to view. She followed her younger self until both of them saw Helen Princhek kissing a man who wasn’t her husband. Her younger self gasped, and when she ran back, tears were flowing from her eyes. Miranda’s eyes met with her mother’s, the latter asking for the forgiveness that the former would only give three years before her death. She glared at her, and at the tall, lean, and rugged-looking man she was kissing, glared at their cheap paperback romance pose, and watched as the two of them faded away.

Miranda Priestly woke up, and found that couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They had been falling on her cheeks not a long time ago. She also wasn’t able to muffle the sounds that came from her mouth, even though she tried to cover them with a hand.

Andrea Sachs was never a heavy sleeper. Her instincts knew when to wake her up, and so far they had served her well. It happened first when she was five and her uncle was involved in a crash on his way to visit them. It happened when her mother was on the phone, and she was supposed to be asleep but she couldn’t fall asleep, and her grandfather had just suffered a debilitating heart attack. And most recently, it happened one day when she was still with Nate, when a faulty wire on her oven toaster made their apartment smell of smoke. It was happening again, that mysterious force trying to wake her up, and as she rubbed her eyes, sleep fading away, her hands flew to the bedside lamp near her, and she slowly sat up on the bed.

The next sight she would see was unprecedented. Miranda had a hand on her mouth and she was crying. Not the I’m-out-of–a–job-and-broke crying, which was just a quiet sob, but it was more of my-world-was-just-torn-apart kind of cry, and Andy’s eyes shot open at the sound. Miranda was bawling, bawling helplessly, and Andy immediately took her in her arms.

This was worse than Paris, for many reasons. Miranda didn’t bawl. Miranda takes a lot of things seriously. And Miranda was still touchy about having to talk about her feelings.

In short, Andy didn’t quite know what to do with her.

“Hey,” Andy said, one hand running up and down Miranda’s back, smoothing it out, as Miranda continued crying. “Miranda, what happened?” She reached for the tissue box and offered it to Miranda, taking a few pieces and wiping her eyes with it. She then felt her eyes welling up at the sight. Nobody made her girlfriend bawl, especially after a date night. There’d be hell to pay for whoever made Miranda cry like that. “Mira, are you alright?”

Miranda sniffled. Lord, she woke up Andrea with her hysterics. Why did that dream have to come back once a year and haunt her? When was it going to end? “No,” Miranda replied, and sneezed on the tissue. “But I’ll be fine. Just go back to bed, Andrea. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You’re not okay. Ok? If you’re up, I’m up. Nobody makes you cry and gets away with it.” Andy said firmly, and Miranda looked up at her for the first time, surprised by the determination in her lover’s voice. “Can you tell me what it is? Did I do something?”

Miranda cried again, and Andy held her tightly. “She… she left. She didn’t want us around her anymore.” Miranda cried for a few minutes, as Andy held her and kissed her on the forehead so many times. “She told me that she wanted to leave us alone with him.”

Andy held her, and the two of them stayed like that for a while. Andy holding Miranda as her cries decreased in volume, as Andy reassured her time and time again, without actually being sure of what the whole story was. When she heard Miranda’s breathing settle into a more comfortable rhythm, far from the frantic pace it was taking earlier, she kissed Miranda’s cheek.

“I’m sorry I got you up,” Miranda said, sniffling, as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Andy would keep that sight of Miranda wiping her nose with a pajama top sleeve until the day she died, and she smiled at the editor. “It’s okay. I’m not really a heavy sleeper.”

“So am I.”

“Do you want to go back to bed, or…” Andy said, as Miranda turned in her arms. “We can talk about this in the morning, if you want to.” Her eyes then widened at an idea. “If you want, we can go to the kitchen, and just have hot milk or something, then go back to bed.”

Miranda had never had her life be infused with such kindness, and was touched that at a moment of weakness, Andrea did not shove her hurt aside or leave Miranda to it by herself. She didn’t push, but her words and her actions showed Miranda that not only was she genuinely concerned, but she also wanted to make everything better if she could.

“Hot milk?”

“Yeah, that’s what my mom did whenever I was feeling down.” Andy said, as she buttoned up her pajama top and buttoned the last three buttons on Miranda’s. “Or when I had a nightmare. But I’m not pushing you. If you want to go back to bed now, we could.”

Miranda smiled a feeble smile at Andrea’s rambling. “Darling, let’s go to the kitchen. You’ll have to forgive me for looking like hell under white light, but yes. Hot milk.”

Andy let out a breathy chuckle as they left their bedroom.

Andy had wondered, more than once, why Miranda Priestly had so many walls built around her. There was the obvious issue of her being famous, of people envying her, of people wanting to take her down, but now, Andy found out that she had walls because of her past. She then watched as Miranda sat feebly on top of the stool in the kitchen counter, and went through the motions of boiling water and stirring powdered milk in it. She closed her eyes as she opened the refrigerator door. Miranda looked so fragile, so broken, and so helpless that Andy wanted to know what caused all this. At the same time, it was clear from the onset that it was private. It was something that the older woman had been keeping in her for a very long time, and Andy knew that even she wouldn’t dare and try to find out if that was the case.

She then took out the last two slices of the chocolate mousse that she bought for all of them two days ago, and when everything was set, Andy laid a tray in front of Miranda, with two glasses of warm milk, two forks, and two small plates with slices of chocolate mousse. “I thought you said warm milk, not a midnight snack.” Miranda said lightly.

Andy grinned slightly as she served Miranda. “It’s not too heavy. It’s just milk and cake.”

“Yes, of course.” Miranda said softly. “You said your mother…”

There was an awkward pause, and Miranda let her fork drop to the plate.

“Miranda?”

Miranda knew exactly what calling out her name meant. “I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

Miranda waved her hand off and nodded. “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“What were you about to say?”

“What?”

“What were you about to say?” Andy asked again, more gently this time. “Mira?”

Andy stood up from her stool, but it was too late. Miranda started crying all over again, and Andy was by her side in a second. “Let it out,” Andy said. “It’ll be okay.”

“We were… we were, we were never enough.” Miranda said, choking on her words, as her tears started flowing once more. “I tried to help her, I tried to do everything…”

“Sssh,” Andy said, as Miranda hugged her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

After taking a few deep breaths, Miranda released Andy from her grasp, and Andy smoothed out her back for a while, deciding to sit next to her and move her food.

“Drink some of this,” Andy said, nudging Miranda’s glass towards her. “It works.”

Miranda drank some of her milk, and Andy was relieved when after a few gulps, her breathing was back to the calm, steady breaths that Miranda was having just a few minutes ago, when they were going down to the kitchen. She felt a little better, and watched Miranda as she sniffled. _Better not mention my mother_ , Andy thought. _Wait, she was crying after… so this has to be about her. Miranda’s parents got divorced? Should I ask, or should I wait for her to…_

Before Andy could say anything, Miranda spoke. “My mother divorced my father.”

Andy nodded in understanding, and drew circles on the counter.

“My older brother Jacob was fifteen, I was eight, and my younger brother Aaron was five.” Miranda said, after taking a bite of her cake. “Do you want to know my real name?”

“If you want to tell me.” Andy replied.

“My real name is Miriam Princhek.” Miranda laughed bitterly. “Not exactly glamorous, is it? I changed it before I graduated from college. By then, my mother stopped caring.”

“Why did they split up?”

“My mother,” Miranda said derisively. “Was doing _favors_ for William Rockwell. He was one of the elder children of one of our town's richest families. They owned a factory, employed most of the town, including my grandfather and at one point, my father.”

The penny dropped. “Oh.”

“Yes,” She said, before taking a bite of her cake. “The neighbors ate it up quickly.” She then looked at Andrea, and then at the counter. “My past was a very good training ground for what I was about to go through, wasn’t it? Getting divorced, being talked about, being left.”

There was no lacing the hurt in her lover’s voice. “Miranda…”

“She was tired of being poor, tired of having to wait for my father to bring home money. More money,” Miranda continued, without listening to Andy. “She left us because of that. She left us, she left town. We didn't know where she went or what happened to her for so long. And after she left, my father rarely talked to us. I suppose it’s difficult to live with us everyday, since we looked like our mother.” She then smirked, and finished the rest of her cake. “So, there. My life.”

Andy took hold of Miranda’s pajama top sleeve and caressed it lightly. “That’s not all of it. Their past, your past, it's not all of who you are. You built your own history. You built your own life. We have so much ahead of us, together. Maybe, you know, in time, you can forget about that.” Andy shook her head. "That's stupid, forget I even said it."

“I’ve tried,” Miranda answered, taking a sip of her milk. “Once a year that dream comes to haunt me. It stopped recently, but it’s appeared for so long, sometimes I remember.”

“Did you talk about it, with anyone?” Andy asked.

“With my mother, three years before she died.” She then gave Andy something which resembled a Look. “If you’re asking about going to a therapist for it, then no. And I wouldn’t. I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to discuss it with someone who isn't my family.”

A moment of silence passed. Andy thought there would be nothing else on the subject. "She was already maligned in life, must I fear judgment for her in death too?"

Andy didn't know what to say to that. 

Andy took Miranda’s hand in hers and kissed it. “Alright.”

There was another lengthy silence. Andy debated what to ask Miranda, if she should ask anything at all, but she quickly realized that whatever it was, it would wait. Miranda would tell her, and if she didn’t, Andy already had more pieces of the puzzle than anyone else.

Miranda, on the other hand, found herself a little fearful after the revelation. What if Andrea thought she was weak? What if she didn’t want to see Miranda break down into pieces and have her moments? What if she thought that Miranda wasn’t good enough for her?

“Miranda,” Andy then said, and took Miranda’s hand in hers. “I love you.”

Andy wanted to beam when the look in Miranda’s eyes softened, and when she gave her a genuine smile. “I love you too, Andrea. I’m sorry that you have to find out about all of this. It's not exactly savory.”

She kissed Miranda on the lips, very briefly, before gesturing with her hands to her back. “All of that,” Andy said, as she pulled Miranda to her and held her in her arms. “All of that made up the woman I love. I don’t care if your parents were divorced. I don't care about how you were or what happened to you before. I accept you for everything that you are, because all of those things, good or bad, form you. None of that will change anything.”

“It’s not exactly made me into a good person.”

“You’re not a bad person either, Miranda.” Andy defended. “I know you. I know your drive, your determination, your enthusiasm, and your love for what you do. I get that.”

“But what about this?” Miranda said, pointing to herself. “How do you feel seeing this fall apart, when you were so used to seeing me impenetrable? Do you get that?”

“Of course I do!” Andy answered. “I don’t know everything about it, but I know how you feel.” She then looked at Miranda squarely. “If you try to be strong all the time, you’ll fail. We need to hold up each other once in a while. You know, make hot milk for each other at times.”

“Hmmm. You’ve always had a way with words.” Miranda replied, leaning on Andy.

“I mean it, Miranda Priestly.” Andy said, and she heard Miranda chuckle. “Miriam Princhek or not, I love you. I care for you. And if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you, then I damn well know everything about you, or at least what you're willing to tell me. That's enough. I can build a life on that. With that. Whatever the right preposition is.”

“Careful, you’re treading into mush. I don’t like mush.”

“If it’s too sweet, I don’t care. You know why? That’s because it’s true. Everything I just said is true and will stand years and years later.” Andy added, and kissed Miranda’s right shoulder. Miranda turned her head to look at Andy, and as she saw the love, respect, and kindness in her eyes, she knew, at that point, that there was no place she’d rather be.

It was four in the morning, and Miranda and Andy could see the stars begin to disappear. Hot milk had helped them stay awake, instead of fall asleep, and Andy decided to open up about the stage in her life when she cut her wrists. Miranda realized that she wasn’t alone, and that everyone was susceptible to the moments of darkness that she’d rather bury. As Andy washed dishes in the kitchen sink, there was a hint of the rising sun appearing on the horizon. Without a single thought, Miranda crossed the counter and wrapped her arms around Andy’s waist.

“Mother would never have believed it if she met you.” Miranda remarked quietly.

Andy chuckled. “Well, my liberal parents took months before adjusting, so…”

Miranda smiled, and put her head on Andy’s shoulder. “Oh yes. I see your point.”

Andy then turned her head to look at Miranda, and Miranda felt vulnerable underneath Andy’s gaze, as though she was being assessed for something.

“Does it happen every year?”

“It used to.” Miranda answered shyly. “Not anymore.”

Andy lifted her chin and the two of them kissed, softly, slowly, each kiss full of the promises that Miranda knew only Andrea Sachs could keep. “Miranda, I promise to be here for you. I want to be the one you call for good news, the one you say ‘goodnight’ to, and the one who holds you when you have a nightmare. I love you, and don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Miranda replied. She then held Andy’s hand in hers, and traced her fingers one by one before kissing the ring on the brunette’s finger. “I think we better head back to bed.”

Andy smiled. Now that was more like it. “I’ll have Isadora clean this up.”

Andy abandoned the dishes, and the two of them went up to return to their bedroom.

Miranda gazed at her lover as she was sleeping. Andrea fell asleep almost instantly after they settled into the bed. She watched the sunlight pass through gauzy curtains before illuminating Andrea’s face. Her long, dark hair, her ruby lips, and her long, dark lashes made her heart swell with something she had rarely felt. Miranda Priestly moved a lock of hair on Andy’s face and traced her nose and lips before kissing her on the cheek and lying down next to her.

Andrea moved slightly and grunted. Miranda smiled as she hugged Andrea from behind.

There would be no one else for her but her Andrea. The image of the brunette sleeping would stay with her forever, and would most likely replace her nightmares with a peaceful dream. Her most cherished dream.

“Sleep well, my morning star,” Miranda said, and fell asleep.


End file.
